A Song of the Sapphire and the Emerald
by Kyatakushi
Summary: It has been two months since the Blood-Oath Celebration, two months since Eragon professed his love for Arya and swore an oath in the Ancient Language that he would wait a thousand years for her if he had to, and two months since Arya rejected him. Eragon's barely contained grief and misery has already begun to take root as insanity and the wound only festers in Arya's absence...
1. Prelude: The Poetic Rider

**A Song of the Sapphire and Emerald**

It has been two months since the Blood-Oath Celebration, two months since Eragon professed his love for Arya and swore an oath in the Ancient Language that he would wait a thousand years for her if he had to, and two months since Arya rejected him. Eragon's barely contained grief and misery has already begun to take root as insanity and the wound only festers in Arya's absence. But Arya fares no better than he. Will Arya give in to her emotions, or will she fall into the arms of insanity along with Eragon?

**Prelude: The Poetic Rider**

Arya still felt uncomfortable talking alone to Eragon alone, and she avoided doing so as much as possible, but she could not prevent it this time. She cautiously entered his room, "Eragon? Nasauda sent me to…", and she trailed off surprised to not find him in his room at all. Noticing a considerably large pile of scrolls stacked in a pile on his desk, she went over to read the one left uncovered. It was a poem entitled "Raven-Black"

_A woman I met _

_Only a year ago, not_

_In a state of sight_

_But in a vision of sleep,_

_Stole my heart with a single glance; she was_

_The woman of Raven-Black.  
_

_Eyes that once shone bright and true,_

_Were now war weary, but pierced_

_My soul still. A sea of black_

_Adorned with a circlet of jaded emerald_

_Then laid grey_

_On the woman of Raven-Black_

_Was it weeks or months before_

_I saw Her face, with these mortal eyes?_

_I remember the hours it took to reach Her,_

_And I remember the horrors She_

_Had suffered at the hands of Evil._

_What grotesque monster had turned Her to a shell_

_Of the Woman of Raven-Black._

_We rode to safety, to the Hidden Gate,_

_Into the arms of Her comrades._

_She survived, by seconds, but alive nonetheless._

_Slowly revived by the master healers,_

_I spoke in Her mind, She was safe,_

_So awoke the Woman of Raven-Black._

_In the world of Mortals once more,_

_She longed for battle._

_So I offered my sword and shield,_

_And She, Her's, and we fought._

_But a battle it was not, it was a symphony of steel,_

_Conducted by the Woman of Raven-Black._

_We heard the sounds of the enemy's drums, _

_And the Army of Rebels prepared for battle._

_A battle juxtaposing Black Souls against Red Sword_

_In the mountain city._

_Alone, I fought a losing fight without my sapphire,_

_But from the Star Rose on my flying gem, sprang forth_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_I drove my sword through the Black-Souls,_

_But She is the one who killed him._

_I did not leave unscathed, a seal of_

_Evil scarred by back, _

_My shield brother taken, and only_

_She could have found him, but luck failed_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_By a Queen of distant wooded lands,_

_And a treaty centuries old, _

_We were commanded to go to the Land of Eternity._

_But the King of the Mountain Cities_

_Desired my name, so he made me brother._

_A brother to him and to the Mountain-Dwellers._

_With disapproval and distaste looked_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_We sought the ancient forest of Du Weldenvarden_

_Using the Mountain-Cities of my clan-brethren, and_

_My training was to be completed by the älfish masters_

_As old as the forests themselves. _

_But as madness creeped ever closer, it was healed by_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_We arrived in Her forest, Her homeland,_

_But insanity welcomed us in lithely manner,_

_In its dulcet tones. A festival of love_

_Sung in the language of Power_

_Would have destroyed me, if not for the saving grace of _

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_I trained. _

_I practiced. _

_I sparred unyieldingly and mastered relentlessly; I was now_

_Able to halt rivers, and pull mountains to their knees. But Power_

_Was of no use to me, I had no desire for it._

_Not even the strongest of men could resist_

_The Power of the Blood-Oath, it manipulated my love for_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_The Elder-Ones had changed me._

_I was more älf than human now, more like Her._

_I thought revealing my love for Her_

_Was fitting to the time of Passions_

_So glorified for months preceding by the people of_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

_I was refused, but I would be mistaken if I believed_

_That my love was one-sided, _

_Her words were dispassionate, but the tongues of mortals lie_

_In Her eyes, a spark of love requited_

_An ember of relief, _

_And the smoke of grief._

_I denied myself, I swore I would not chase after_

_The Woman of Raven-Black._

She reeled at reading a poem so clearly written about her, only Eragon could have done such a thing as no one else knew her so well. Arya hadn't realized how deep Eragon's affection for her was. As curiosity gripped her once more, she looked for a pile from about two months ago; she choseanother of Eragon's poems.

_When I walking alone_

_Down a crowded street, filled_

_With so many happy couples_

_Whose eyes were filled with joy;_

_I walk on with sadness in my heart._

_Wishing I could be one of them._

_Waiting for this emptiness to leave,  
_

_But it won't go,_

_Not for a long time on._

_Because the one I love_

_Might as well be_

_Living across an Ocean that I've never seen,_

_Thrown headlong away from my words and my voice_

_That are meant for Her,_

_And Her alone._

_The rain breaks free from the Heavens_

_And I listen quietly, wasting the time on my back. With_

_Love the furthest thing from my mind;_

_But like a dreaded memory, the_

_Thoughts of Her creep back into my mind._

_And like Manic Depression,_

_The tears come back again._

_And they won't go,_

_They don't want to leave me alone._

_Because the one I love_

_Might as well be_

_Stranded on an island no soul has ever been,_

_Isolated from my thoughts and my heart_

_That are meant for Her_

_And Her alone._

_Let the rain keep falling, drowning out all sound,_

_For now my tears have become my fate._

_One consigned to watch from afar,_

_To be crushed time and time again,_

_And to watch her fall with other men._

_An emptiness stands inside me,_

_Formidable as the castle walls_

_I've surrounded myself in completely._

_They won't fall by my hand,_

_Only by Her word will they collapse;_

_The wall will stand for eternity_

_Because the one I love is mute to me._

_She won't hear my pleas_

_Over the loneliest of barricades._

_The barricades of my own creation._

_I know now that words are useless_

_Without someone to hear your words,_

_Without someone to know your voice,_

_And without someone to know your heart._

Tears started to well up in Arya's eyes but she managed to fight them back. She found the most recently written pile of papers, the ink still drying on the papers and the dry quill resting on the last page.

_Don't let me step_

_Out into the cold,_

_Don't let me fall_

_Down, losing what is gold._

_Don't let me down,_

_Because you are the one who flew beside me._

_Don't let me feel_

_The ever surmounting pain._

_Don't let me hate_

_The never-ending rain._

_Don't let me run,_

_Because you are why I stay._

_Don't let me believe_

_In their lies._

_Don't let me see through_

_The alluring mystery in your eyes._

_Don't let me leave,_

_Because you are the one who never left me alone_

_Don't let me forget_

_The adventures we had._

_Don't let me be entrapped_

_By the gate in iron clad._

_Don't let me remember the ground,_

_Because you are the one who made me fly._

Arya quickly looked back at the second poem, realizing that she had missed a stanza, one written in a quick and hasty script:

_But I did not swear_

_To never admire Her,_

_To never bask in Her presence, and_

_To never love Her;_

_I swore I would wait for a thousand years._

_And for a thousand years I shall wait_

_For Her._

_And Her alone._

She couldn't hold back her tears any longer, so she let them break past the plains of her eyes. _How_, she thought, _could Eragon manage to do this to me with written words but not when we're face to face? I can't face anyone right now, much less him._ So she chanted the spell of invisibility and sprinted for her room. _After this has passed, I need to talk to him. No, I only need to see him; it doesn't matter if he sees me._

**A.N.**

All poetry you see here is my own, and poetry makes up the bulk of what I write; so if any errors I did not catch, for example, plot, character speech, etc. are made out of inexperience with writing on a larger scale. If I missed any grammatical or mechanical errors, please do not hesitate to P.M. me. I only want the best for my readers. Concerning my next section, I will start with Arya's perspective, and then switch to Eragon or any other character of my own or one of Paolini's creation. I am going to make the effort to publish a new chapter at least once a week, as school is nearly over.

-Kyatakushi


	2. Pain, Incredible Pain&Eragon's Sanctuary

A.N. Thanks to everyone who already reviewed and favorited my story! I was honestly surprised at how quickly others started responding, so I decided to get this one in as quickly as possible. Keep in mind, the poetry will become vital to the story very soon ;).

For your benefit: Character conversation key

_Italicized_: Character's internal voice

_"Italicized w/ quotation marks"_: Mental conversation

"Normal w/ quotation marks": Verbal conversation

CAUTION Arya's dream contains depictions of torture. Do not read if you do not want to.

**Chapter One: Pain, Incredible Pain**

_Darkness surrounds her. The skin on her wrists and ankles are ground and grated away by shackles that feel like rough sandpaper, covering the once grey metal in a layer of dried blood. She sees two unblinking red eyes staring at her in the darkness, and hatred quickly bubbles to the surface. But she mustn't let it show, for any emotion would be a victory for... It. It's voice echoes off of the stone walls of her cell, "Your will is strong, elf, but I have ways of bending you to my will." Immediately, without warning, a red hot dagger is plunged into her arm, the pain is almost unbearable, but she lets nothing through. "I've never had the pleasure of breaking an elf before, so don't make it too easy, I want to enjoy this." The pain is too much for her mind to handle, and those evil red eyes disappear from her sight, as she fades..._

Arya nearly screamed as she awoke, but managed to contain it as a pained whimper. For the tenth night in a row, nightmares of the prison in Gilead had robbed her of peaceful sleep. It was becoming more difficult to contain herself each time because the pain only became worse with each passing day. She couldn't stand, but she managed to sit on her bed curled up in a ball, and not make a sound as tears of pain fell from her eyes. _I can't go on like this,_ she thought_, I need someone to help lift this burden off of me._ After what had seemed an hour, she slowly coaxed her body out of bed, and prepare for the long day ahead. She winced at the sudden pain in her side as she arose, realizing her memories were now beginning to physically manifest themselves. _I need to find Eragon._

* * *

Eragon awoke, scared at first because he did not recognize the room he was in, but then the fear left as quickly as it came when he remembered that he had been sleeping outside with Saphira for the past week. His sleep had been plagued with night terrors that left him out of breath and made him feel constricted like he was still in full armor. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the soft ground around him and the warmth under Saphira's massive blue curtain, but the day was dawning, and even though his battle with Murtagh had left him near death, Eragon still had duties to fulfill.

He tried to push his way from out underneath the wing, but it was far too heavy for him to lift. _"Saphira?... Saphira? Are you awake?"_ Eragon heard an audible groan from the light-blue scaled wall behind him,_ "Hmm... Good morning, Little One."_said Saphira._ "Good morning, I can't seem to move your wing, could you..." "Of course."_ As she raised her wing, more of the bright morning sunlight started to shine in Eragon's tired eyes. He stepped out into the cool air of dawn, chilled slightly, but not cold, and began performing the first level of the Ringmar. Shockingly, Eragon found the first level to be considerably easier than before, so he continued up through the second level, and the third, but none proved to be as difficult as they had been only six months before.

The dragons had changed him at the Blood-Oath Celebration, anyone could see the physical changes that made him more elf-like, but he still did not know the magnitude of the alterations. He knew he could cast more powerful and intricate spells without a major strain on his body, that he could easily outrun any human, both in distance and speed, and that he could fight with previously impossible speed and land immensely powerful blows, but he did not know anything beyond that. He figured that he could add flexibility to the list of changes while he meditated.

Not a second after he thought he was at peace, an indescribable pain shot its way across his back, exactly where the scar from Durza's sword had been. Saphira moved with an incredible swiftness to aid her Rider,_ "Eragon! What happened? Are you alright?" "I'm fine, Saphira, I don't think it was anything serious. The dragons from the Aegethi-Blodhren removed the scar, remember?" "But then why did you...?" "Saphira, I'm fine. I just..."_ Eragon lost his train of thought as he looked out over the cliff he was perched on, _"Eragon?"_ said Saphira, worried about her Partner-of-the-Heart-and-Mind. _"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. I... I think I need to be alone for a while to sort some things out. I'll be back before sunset." "Be safe Little One, I can't always be there to save you from danger." I can try, but I can't promise anything._ Eragon found himself wishing something would dare have the tenacity to cross his path.

* * *

At around midday, restlessness and impatience were beginning to take its toll on Arya. She still needed to find Eragon, she needed to shrug off the psychological weight that clung to her now. Although she did enjoy Nasauda's company, the only time she was able to see her was in the never-ending slew of war council meetings;which basically boiled down to a group of old men shouting and arguing with one another around a table. All in all, this day only compounded Arya's irritability. So, she managed to sip out of the latest meeting unseen, and decided to explore the wilderness that surrounded the Varden's encampment.

After two or three hours, the sun was setting, and she was about to return to the camp when she heard the faint trickling of water running over stone. Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, she went off in search of the sound's origin. As she approached what she assumed was a small stream, she nearly walked into a magical trap that would maim, if not mortally injure, any who crossed it. Arya was confounded by the presence of the barrier, what could possibly be so valuable that someone would place such an intricate spell to kill any trespassers? As she examined the individual weaves of magic laced into the spell she noticed that the spell was created by the hands of a male human, but influenced by something feminine and much more ancient than man. Then, it hit her: this spell was Eragon's doing.

It was here that she would come face to face with Eragon; in his sanctuary.

* * *

Eragon was deep in meditation underneath a tree reminiscent of those found in Du Weldenvarden; ancient, mysterious, and vivacious. He was in a state of total harmony; finally at peace with himself and the world around him. A sudden burst of adrenaline shot through his entire being, as he sensed someone approaching. He relaxed slightly when he noticed the person was not moving covertly as an assassin would, and relaxed even further when the second barrier identified the being as an elf. He started to rise so he could make sure the elf would not cross the final protective spell, but when a light breeze picked up in the air around him carried the scent of crushed pine needles, he froze. A single thought ran through his mind: _Arya._

Eragon was now sprinting to the barrier, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hurt her as a result of his carelessness. Within a few minutes, they were face to face at last. Eragon lowered the barrier for Arya, wanting to say something, but couldn't find his tongue. He just barely managed to stumble out some form of the traditional elvish greeting, Arya replied, not nearly as flustered as he, but still caught off guard by Eragon's formality. "Welcome, Arya, to my sanctuary."


	3. (Ch 25) Lies, for Lack of a Better Word

**A.N.** I apologize for the lateness of my update, my finals were absolute hell and I could find no time to actually get this written. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed my story so far; it was you that actually gave me the drive to get this out. Now without further adieu, here is chapter three of _A Song of the Sapphire and the Emerald_.

**Lies, for Lack of a Better Word**

Arya was in complete shock at the beauty of Eragon's hidden sanctuary. Here life flourished in ways that seemed impossible, while the land surrounding it was desolate and harsh. Tall green grass, whose blades were soft to the touch, riddled with a myriad of different flowers; a lazy, meandering stream split the meadow in half as it curved around a massive boulder as wide as she was tall.

Eragon led her through the peaceful grove, identifying the different types of blossoms, and explained how he had found this utopia of life. "I had grown tired of the incessant arguing the War Council seems to think is planning for a military campaign," said Eragon "So I left. I decided that they would call on me when I was needed, and at the time, I was not." A gentle breeze picked up that slanted the tall grasses, and swept up Eragon's long blond hair, exposing his slightly elf-like ears for only a moment before the wind died as quickly as it had lived. Arya thought she had never seen anyone so beautiful as the Eragon that appeared before her now.

"Eragon, I... I need to know if I can trust you" asked Arya nervously, "Of course you can, Arya. Whatever made you think otherwise?" "No, it's not that I don't trust you, I would trust you with my life, but I... it's just... what I'm going to tell you cannot leave here, understand?" "Yes, but what could possibly be so..." They both turned to a voice shouting in the distance, but to far to make any sense of the words, so it was ignored. "Eragon, I..."

"ARYA! Get away from him!" Arya turned to the voice, only to be presented with a second Eragon. "He is not me!" Arya was baffled, and emotion she rarely felt. "What is going on? Is this some sort of sick joke?" she said, turning to the first Eragon, but he was no longer there. In his place stood a pale, red eyed and red haired monster, a figure from Arya's night terrors: a Shade. Arya tried to run, but her body would not respond. She looked down to see a black, twisted hilt of a dagger protruding from her. The world slowly faded to black, the last thing she saw was the real Eragon's face. The last thing she felt was a massive amount of healing magic surging through her.

AN Sorry for the short section, more will be on the way within a few days!


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